Close of Business
by Vera Kate
Summary: Philip has his last meeting with James Williams.


**A/N:** Thanks for checking out my story! This has **spoilers for the season finale**, so take heed! **Seriously, major, major spoilers.** Also for those following my other stories - yes, I'm still working on Promises Made! It's just that sometimes I can't really focus on that when I have other short ones picking at my brain. The next chapter of PM should be up next weekend, so keep an eye out for it!

Those of you who are show only, I have two WotO short stories that you would easily be able to follow, in addition to a few WotO drabbles. You can find them in my profile (the drabbles are in Tales of Another Life which is listed under the Darkest Powers page - it's one of the YA series in WotO). Season two of the show is going to be vastly different from anything in the books, so you should read them and join us on the WotO page too!

Please review!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bitten_ or _Women of the Otherwold._

* * *

The doctor was talking to him. Philip could see his mouth and lips moving but he didn't register the sounds. Diane was visible out of the corner of his eye. She was writing something down. It looked as though she and the doctor were talking. It was probably about his prescriptions or follow up visits.

Diane took him by the arm and sound returned to him. He looked around his hospital room that he had called home the past few days. The doctor had already left. A few nurses came in and left a box that contained the bloody clothes he was wearing when he was admitted. He cocked his head. He was a little surprised that the police didn't take them for evidence, but perhaps they had already looked them over.

"Let's go home." Diane's voice reached out to him.

"I can't go back," Philip started.

"Mom's already dropped a bag of your stuff at my place. You're staying with me," Diane grinned, squeezing his arm. She led him from the room. He cast a look over his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he was ready to leave.

He wasn't sure if he would ever be ready to leave.

* * *

Philip didn't know exactly what to do once they reached her apartment. Watch TV? A movie? Read a book? It all seemed too normal, too ordinary. After what he saw – no, he thought he saw ... he must have hallucinated parts of that memory. Blood loss could cause that. Elena didn't really turn onto a...

His phone rang and he checked it. It was James Williams.

"Hello," James greeted, his voice was warm. "I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"N-n-no," Philip stuttered.

"Excellent. I was hoping we could meet tonight."

"I don't know, I've had a few things come up-"

"No pressure, if you're busy, it can wait a day or two. I just wanted to show you a few things concerning the campaign and finish going over the marketing strategy."

"Of course. Let me take care of a few things and I'll get back to you about tonight." Philip hoped he sounded normal, casual, anything but the truth.

"Excellent, Philip, excellent."

The line went dead and Phillip stared at his phone.

"Who was that?" Diane came out of the kitchen, bringing a tray of food and a variety of pills.

"A client of mine, he wants a business meeting tonight."

"What did you tell him? Which client?"

"I'd get back to him…" he trailed off. "It's the vodka campaign that I've been working on."

"Well," Diane led off, "it's your call. It might be good to put your mind on something else for a little while," she shrugged.

Philip dumbly nodded. He took his pills. Diane watched him carefully, making sure he wasn't trying to hide any of them.

He sat there a moment, Diane hovering nearby. She disappeared into the kitchen for a brief moment and came back out with a glass of some sort of blended vegetable smoothie.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe ... something normal is what I need," Philip said after a moment of staring into nothing.

Diane smiled a small smile.

"But … but it's to drop out of the campaign," he said slowly. "I don't think I would be able to really see this all the way through."

Diane sat down next to him on the couch and patted his leg.

"If that is what you think … but," she lead off with, "I think you at least need to go and see what he has to say. You can't just bury yourself away. You need to get out there, keep living."

"It just … it has to do with Elena."

"He wants to use Elena's work?"

"No, no," Philip said hastily. He tried to shut out the images of the wolves – _werewolves, Elena_ – out of his mind. "It's just that this … it just reminds me of her, you know? I bounced some ideas off of her, some of the ones that have made it to these final rounds … I don't think I could really … you know."

Diane squeezed his leg and bit her bottom lip.

"Well … you should at least hear him out. Remember, this is your _first_ campaign at the firm_ you_ started. You need to look at the bigger picture, as harsh as that is."

Philip sighed and nodded.

He returned the call.

* * *

He was being picked up at eight. James had insisted on it. Philip hoped that his eagerness was a good sign about James' feeling towards him. He had promised Diane that he would try to keep an open mind about everything, but he didn't know if he could sit through dinner and drinks with a man whose campaign he was going to bail on.

He stepped into the town car and was surprised to see James sitting in the back.

"Philip, so glad to see you. Did ... did something happen? It's not my business but are you okay?" James leaned down to see a better view of Philip's face.

"I'm fine for the most part," Philip replied. "I was unfortunate enough to be home when ... when some burglars broke in." He paused for a moment and quickly added, "They didn't take anything concerning the campaign. I still have everything, concerning that."

"That's terrible, terrible. I don't want you to feel as though you have to be here. If you need to rest, don't let me stop you. We can easily do this another night."

"That's very kind but I think work is what I need right now," Philip lied. He hoped he sounded honest. He hoped that by the end of the night, he wouldn't be the liar he was expecting to be.

James nodded and the driver took off.

* * *

Philip considered himself well connected in Toronto. He was able to get a table or reservations at most of the upper restaurants without too much fuss. He felt out classed when the car stopped at _the _restaurant in Toronto. It was a sensation that repeated itself tenfold when the host seated them without a reservation.

Dinner was something exquisite. The guilt ate at him tremendously. He allowed himself one scotch. He couldn't remember if he was supposed to avoid alcohol or not, but he couldn't say no to an aged thirty year single malt bottle James ordered for their table.

It helped relax his nerves. It was the first time since the whole Elena ordeal of constantly bouncing back and forth from Toronto and Stonehaven that he felt completely and truly relaxed.

"You said you wanted to talk about the campaign," Philip said as their plates were taken away. It was worlds above the food he recently had.

Their conversation over dinner had been anything other than work or the glaringly obvious wounds Philip had. It felt _normal_.

"Ah, yes," James said, sipping the remainder of scotch from his glass. "That is something I do want to talk about, but not here."

"Where?"

"I have the perfect spot," James grinned.

* * *

"I come here, you know," James said, his words slightly slurred. They were standing on Cherry Beach. Philip wished they were anywhere but here. "I can't say that I've seen a coyote or wolf though."

"You come here often?"

James shook his head. "No, but I drop by occasionally, when the night is clear like this."

It was a beautiful night. The moon was full, its reflection slightly distorted in the lake.

"So, the campaign," Philip started.

"Yes, yes, that," James cut him off. "I have to say, I've been extremely pleased with what you've produced. None better in all of Toronto, nay, Canada," James grinned. "You gave me exactly everything that I was looking for and then little things that I didn't even know to look for. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Philip felt color rise to his cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the praise, or a combination of the two.

"I'm very glad to hear you say that. I think the campaign is ready to launch, whenever you're ready. But … I would prefer not to be the one handling that."

James turned to him, his face was surprised.

"Really? You _created_ all of this out of nothing and you don't want to be responsible as to how it is received in the world?"

"I do," Philip said hastily, "but right now, it just isn't a good time. There was the whole break-in thing and then my relationship just completely imploded on me out of nowhere, and … every time I look at it, I see her."

"You see her? Do you mean the artwork?"

Philip mentally berated himself. It was definitely the alcohol that let that slip out. He shouldn't have had that first drink or the three after it.

"It's just … you know, she was around when I did a lot of work of it. It's just a memory of simply _being_, you know?"

James didn't reply but walked further down the beach and looked up into the dark night sky. Philip watched him for a moment and then followed. He would need to handle this delicately. He had a few people in mind that he could suggest that could easily handle the campaign.

"If you want recommendations, I can give you some. I've worked with them all before and I would be more than willingly to work with them as things really amp up right before launch."

"No, no, that will not work," James said quietly. His words were so soft, Philip at first wasn't sure if he had heard James or the whisper of the leaves.

James pulled out a flask and offered it to Philip. He refused it at first but when James offered it again, he took a small swig, trying not to be rude.

"You see, the reason that will not work …" James trailed off. He looked back at Philip and then he turned around, looking into the woods. "Ah, about time," he grinned.

Philip looked into the woods but he didn't see anything. James cast him a quick glance and smiled.

"I know what you saw," James said softly. "You know too much."

Someone came up and grabbed Philip from behind. He felt a cold knife dig into his throat. He swallowed hard, wincing at how the knife cut into the first layer of skin.

"I know you saw _her_. I know you saw Elena." James was walking back towards him. "There was always a small chance you might make it out of this alive. A small one, but nevertheless, you didn't make it."

"If you're going to kill me, go ahead and do it. Just do it," Philip yelled out into the darkness.

"It was kind of you to help cut down the leg work though, staying at your sister's place and all," James grinned.

"No! This is between just us! She doesn't know anything about what you all are! She doesn't know _anything_!" He was sober now, the effects of the alcohol gone in an instant. He could feel every single nerve in his body. They all told him to _run_.

James grinned. "You protest as if you protests could have saved her."

Philip struggled, trying to move his arms, trying to dislodge the grip the man had on them. The knife slipped and he felt a few drops of blood go down his neck.

A set of growls responded to efforts. He saw two wolves emerge from the woods, the same direction where James had been looking only moments before.

"No, no, you're not going to … you're not going to …" Philip sputtered out. James smirked.

"Not so brave, are we now? It took me a while to figure out what she saw in you. You aren't anything like Clayton. No. You aren't near the specimen he is. You know who you're like? Jeremy. Perhaps if you were more like Clayton, you'd be able to join us for this adventure. One Jeremy is already one too many."

Philip didn't respond. He didn't know how to respond. He felt the knife dig deeper into his flesh and he let out a hiss.

James nodded and Philip felt the knife go deeper.

* * *

"What do you want us to do with the body?"

Malcolm looked up over at the wolves and Philip's executioner.

"Why do you think I brought along two extras? Change and enjoy yourselves."

Malcolm put Philip's head into the black leather bag.


End file.
